1 Introduction: 'Am I That Name'?

Notes

1 Introduction: ‘Am I that name’?

1. On the issue of essentialism, Diana Fuss helpfully notes that ‘to insist that essentialism is always and everywhere reactionary is, for the construction- ist, to buy into essentialism in the very act of making the charge; it is to act as if essentialism has an essence’ (1989: 21; Fuss’s emphasis). 2. Karlyn Crowley states that the ‘Goddess movement and its literature, read by a larger audience than one might expect, have grown to such a degree that it has been called “one of the most striking religious success stories of the late twentieth century”’ by Philip G. Davis, whom she labels a ‘conservative scholar’ (Davis, 1998: 4; Crowley, 2011: 19, 113). 3. Compare the last scene of Henry V, in which Burgundy and King Henry joke about the prospect of the English king’s ‘naked blind boy’ (erect penis) appearing in Princess Katharine’s ‘naked seeing self’ (vagina) (V. ii. 299). 4. Many women in contemporary society do regard the goddess as a serious religious deity, especially practitioners of Dianic Wicca. See feminist the- ology scholar Rosemary Radford Ruether for a summary of the development of feminist neopaganism; Ruether notes that ‘In the mid-1970s, the neopagan movement began to organize on national and regional levels and to seek legal status as a recognized American religion’ (2005: 292). Some femininist neopagans lead or take tours to sites of ancient goddess temples (Crowley, 2011: 120; Ruether, 2005: 288). 5. Although female homosexual desire in Shakespeare’s work will be discussed somewhat in Chapter 5, the focus of this book will primarily be on female heterosexuality. 6. Lavinia of Titus Andronicus, for example, relates her experience to the story in Ovid’s Metamorphoses of Philomela. 7. In the introduction of his book, Maurice Charney states that ‘Shakespeare’s conception of love doesn’t fit Ficino’s Platonic and neo-Platonic ideas, in which physical love is always transcended to something higher and more spiritual’; instead, ‘Love in Shakespeare expresses itself in physical desire, and even at its most rapturous (as in Romeo and Juliet) never loses its sexual underpinnings’ (2000: 1–2). In the conclusion of his book, Stanley Wells recounts that, as he focused on the subject of sex in Shakespeare’s works, he realized that Shakespeare ‘continually saw sex as an instrument of relationships between people, and one that cannot – or should not – be divorced from love’, as he ‘knew of the dangers of mistaking animal desire for a higher passion, that the sexual instinct is one that may be misused, that it can lead to rape and murder, to a prostitution of all that is best in man’, though he ‘knew too that sex is an essential component of even the

159 160 Notes to Chapter 2

highest forms of human love, that it can lead to a sublime realization of the self in a near-mystical union of personalities’ (2010: 250). 8. Crowley states that ‘The New Age is usually defined as an umbrella term for diverse spiritual, social, and political beliefs and practices that attempt to promote personal and societal change through spiritual transformation’ (2011: 27). 9. Ruether (2005: 267–71) explains that first-wave feminism developed a political/spiritual rift similar to that of second-wave feminism.

2 ‘Made to write “whore” upon?’: Male and Female Use of the Word ‘Whore’

1. See Frankie Rubinstein (1989) and Gordon Williams (1994) on these other terms of sexual insult in Shakespeare’s works. 2. In the 2013 online version of the Oxford English Dictionary, there are a few changes from the 1933 and 1977 print versions, but they are only in slight modifications of the dating of some of the citations, not in which or how many citations come from Shakespeare or in the definitions themselves as quoted in this chapter. I quote from the 1933/1977 print versions and the 1986 print supplement. 3. In order to keep length manageable, I do not here analyze Shakespeare’s uses of ‘whoremaster’ (5 instances), ‘whoremasterly’ (1), ‘whoreson’ (40), and ‘whoresons’ (1), which, although dependent on the notion of female as ‘whore’, are applied exclusively to male characters. Marvin Spevack’s The Harvard Concordance to Shakespeare (1973), my initial guide to locating the citations, lists one further instance of ‘whore’ as noun, ‘to be his whore is witless’, II. iv. 5 of The Two Noble Kinsmen, a play not included in the Shakespeare folios, but that most contemporary scholars believe to have been co-authored by Shakespeare and John Fletcher. As I cannot be certain that Shakespeare rather than Fletcher wrote that line, I do not consider it here, although its implications do not contradict my overall argument. Interestingly, no form of the word ‘whore’ appears in The Comedy of Errors, which includes a courtesan among its characters, nor is it found in Pericles, which features a brothel as one of its settings and three bawds among its characters. The near-absence of use of the word ‘whore’ in Shakespeare’s comedies, in contrast with the tragedies, is consistent with their more playful attitudes toward language and their increased acceptance of female sexuality as part of the reproductive processes of nature. 4. See my essay ‘A Presentist Analysis of Joan, la Pucelle’ (2009) for more extensive analysis of Shakespeare’s treatment of Joan in 1 Henry VI. 5. More information on brothels in this period can be found in Burford (1993). 6. For further interpretation of this play, see my essay ‘Paying Tribute: Shakespeare’s Cymbeline, the “Woman’s Part”, and Italy’ (1995). 7. My essay ‘Hamlet’s Whores’ (1994) analyzes the play’s ‘whore’ images in more detail. Notes to Chapter 3 161

8. In my forthcoming essay ‘Shakespeare’s Quantum Physics: Merry Wives as a Feminist “Parallel Universe” of 2 Henry IV’ (2014), I explore this prospect through concepts borrowed from contemporary quantum physics. 9. Although Bevington follows the folios in beginning this passage with ‘My [Othello’s] name’, many other editors prefer the quarto’s ‘Her [Desdemona’s] name’, as do I. See the discussion by editors on the issue provided by Furness in the New Variorum edition of Othello (205, gloss number 445) and the account in its Appendix of the play’s textual history (336–43). The choice of ‘My name’, though, does not invalidate the sense of my argument here, as the name being blackened through masculine inscription is emblematic of feminine chastity through the metaphoric comparison to Diana. 10. Emilia’s bold speeches to Desdemona about female sexual equality (among other positive attributes of her character) inspired Carol Thomas Neely (1980), in a justly famous article on the play, to break out from the pack of commentators on Othello whom she described as Othello, Iago, or Desdemona critics, in order to name herself an ‘Emilia critic’. Yet, for all of her brave talk, Emilia is complicitous in the male vilification of female sexuality in Othello in a way that Bianca is not, which leads me to name myself a ‘Bianca critic’.

3 ‘Enough to make a whore forswear her trade’: Prostitution as Woman’s ‘Oldest Profession’

1. The term ‘Henriad’ is one that critics have invented to refer to Parts 1 and 2 of Henry IV and to Henry V, the three plays of Shakespeare’s second tetralogy of history plays that deal with the political development of the character who becomes King Henry V. Although King Henry IV refers to this character, his eldest son, as ‘Harry’, as does the character himself, Falstaff calls him ‘Hal’, and critics tend to use that name for him in the Henry IV plays more often than they do ‘Harry’, particularly when dis- cussing the tavern scenes and any of his interactions with Falstaff. Before Henry IV becomes king, he is usually called ‘Bolingbroke’. 2. One additional female sex worker, Bridget, is mentioned by name once in Measure for Measure; as Pompey is being led to prison, Lucio asks him, ‘Does Bridget paint [use cosmetics] still, Pompey, ha?’ (III. ii. 78). 3. Many historians and anthropologists have written on this subject; one does not need to dig far into scholarly treatments of the history of prostitution to find accounts of ritual prostitution, documented in many ancient sources. Some recent writers argue that earlier authors may have overestimated how widespread the practice was in ancient cultures, but there is no doubt but that sacred ritual prostitution was definitely prac- ticed in temples of various ancient goddesses, in several cultures, and that it preceded secular, or ‘profane’, prostitution. 4. Depictions of prostitution by Shakespeare’s contemporary dramatists are outside of the scope of this book; for astute analysis of prostitutes in other 162 Notes to Chapter 3

early modern playwrights’ work, see the books by Anne Haselkorn (1983) and Angela Ingram (1984). 5. When Prince Hal first hears about Falstaff’s planned assignation, he says, ‘This Doll Tearsheet must be some road’, to which Poins answers, ‘I war- rant you, as common as the way between St. Albans and London’ (II. ii. 158–60). As Hal is a frequent patron of the tavern, the fact that he did not know of Doll is further evidence that the tavern’s provision of sexual services is comparatively recent. At this point, it is probable that Doll is the only sex worker at the tavern. Burford notes that on the Bankside in the 1500s, ‘the distinction between inn and brothel was a very fine one’ (1993: 126). 6. Burford states that in the early modern period ‘life expectancy was very short: only 10 per cent of the population reached the age of forty and females had a shorter life span than men’, with prostitutes ‘doomed to an even shorter life because of the mode of life thrust upon them and the probability that if they lived longer, dissipation and disease would take a further toll and by the age of forty they would be old hags.’ In addition, they were often ‘suffering from a venereal disease, and frequently tuber- culosis into the bargain’ (1993: 174–5). Although a prostitute, like Doll, might receive ‘some sort of treatment’ at a hospital, Burford notes that it ‘was a mixed blessing because cross-infection through ignorant treatment was frequent’ (143). 7. Singh observes that ‘Even traditional, “common-sense” readings of Measure for Measure acknowledge that the play defies generic expectations of comedy and presents a “problem”’ (1994: 41). 8. Pompey adds that the brothels ‘in the city’ ‘shall stand for seed’ because ‘a wise burgher put in for them’ (I. ii. 99–100); that is, a wealthy business- man bought them as an investment, another instance of money trump- ing ‘morality’. 9. For information on courtesans in the early modern period as highly educated, articulate, and as proficient in social graces as they would be in sexual techniques, see Ann Rosalind Jones (1986). 10. Similarly, in the early modern England of Shakespeare’s time, Burford notes that ‘Some of the whores, it is true, became rich; many of those who became bawds became very rich.’ So, although ‘Officially repudi- ated, despised and vilified as they were, they flourished because the same nobility and gentry who disparaged them in public, utilized their services in private.’ Therefore, ‘the women were able to earn money by blackmail and even at times to marry well above their station; in concubinage they could go as far as royalty itself’ (1993: 175). 11. Many scholars believe that in writing Pericles, Shakespeare had a col- laborator; George Wilkins is the playwright most often suggested. The sections of the play dealing with prostitution and the goddess Diana are agreed by most commentators to be authored by Shakespeare. 12. In 2 Henry IV, sex workers Doll Tearsheet and Nell Quickly are called ‘Ephesians’ of ‘the old church’ (II. ii. 142). Notes to Chapter 4 163

4 The Heroic Tragedy of Cleopatra: The ‘Prostitute Queen’

1. Although she does not mention the Roman writings’ label of Cleopatra as regina meretrix, Linda Charnes relatedly notes in her remarks on Antony and Cleopatra that ‘the word “pornography” etymologically means “to enslave a female harlot in writing”’ (1993: 130). 2. One of the most important essays ever written on this play is the pio- neering feminist analysis ‘Egyptian Queens and Male Reviewers: Sexist Attitudes in Antony and Cleopatra Criticism’, by Linda T. Fitz (Woodbridge), first published in 1977. Not only does she survey major criticism up to the mid-1970s and present her findings that ‘modern critics are just as sexist in their views as nineteenth-century critics’ (203 n. 1 in Drakakis’s edited collection), but she also makes the first prominent case (building on the early but obscure work of Rosa Grindon, 1909, and Lucie Simpson, 1928) that Cleopatra can be interpreted as the play’s sole tragic hero. Most subsequent feminist critics of the play cite and pay tribute to this essay’s exposure of sexism, yet many remain unconvinced that Shakespeare’s Cleopatra possesses tragic stature, as evidenced in the example of major feminist critic Janet Adelman. Her book The Common Liar, published in 1973, is praised by Fitz as ‘the only study of the play which attempts to establish, on a scholarly basis’, that ‘Shakespeare’s audience might have viewed positively the sex-role reversal exemplified by Cleopatra and Antony’s exchange of clothing, as well as Cleopatra’s association with serpents’, whereas ‘almost all other critics see these two aspects of the play as particularly damning to Cleopatra’ (207 n. 60). Fitz also notes, though, that Adelman, by stating that ‘“Antony is the presumptive hero of the play”’ (Fitz, 1977: 193; Adelman, 1973: 30), enlists herself among those holding ‘the almost universal assumption that Antony alone is its protagonist’, which Fitz calls the ‘most flagrant manifestation of sexism in criticism of the play’ (192). In her book Suffocating Mothers, published in 1992, Adelman pauses in her insightful and valuable analysis of the positive generativity of Shakespeare’s Cleopatra, which ‘becomes potent enough to outwit Caesar and to redefine tragedy in its own terms’, to insist that ‘the arena of her subjectivity and power has nonetheless been very carefully circumscribed’ by Shakespeare (190–1). In a note on this passage, Adelman agrees with Fitz that ‘criticism has tended to grant Cleopatra much less subjectivity than Shakespeare does’, but rather than embracing the opportunity to revise the stance taken in her earlier book, she tena- ciously reasserts that Cleopatra ‘lacks the full privileges of the self in comparison with Antony’ (341 n. 56). I believe, however, that Adelman’s own analysis of Cleopatra, in both books, blatantly contradicts this allegation. 3. See Frankie Rubinstein (1989) on ‘queen’ / ‘quean’ in Shakespeare’s and his contemporaries’ works (209–10). 4. As Fitz (Woodbridge) notes, ‘That Cleopatra is the queen of Egypt, consi- dering how much it is harped upon in the play, is a fact that critics seem 164 Notes to Chapter 4

remarkably willing to forget’ (208 n. 67 in Drakakis’s edited collection, 1994). In what may be a deliberate response to this point, Adelman, in Suffocating Mothers, maintains that Cleopatra’s ‘queenship is largely implicit, her subjects invisible; she is one with her feminized kingdom as though it were her body, not her domain. Political power is reserved for the men; Cleopatra’s royalty in the end consists of dying well’ (1992: 191). A related attitude is also evident in the work of influential feminist critic Coppélia Kahn: ‘Shakespeare reconstructs his heroine as a Roman wife allowed just enough autonomy to choose death as testament of her love for her husband. By fusing her identity as queen with a new identity as wife, suicide decontaminates her infamous sexuality’ (1997: 138). In the wake of Fitz’s groundbreaking essay, it is disconcerting that feminist critics are now the ones reinscribing (though by projecting the deed – unfairly – onto Shakespeare, whom they then sanctimoniously chastise) what Fitz identifies as the ‘sexist assumption’ that ‘for a woman, love should be everything; her showing an interest in anything but her man is reprehensible’ (189). Not all feminist critics, though, take this stance. See Evelyn Gajowski’s chapter on the play in The Art of Loving (1992) and Linda Charnes’s chapter on it in her Notorious Identity (1993), both of which offer what I consider indisputable cases for Cleopatra’s subjectivity, though neither specifically addresses the issue of Cleopatra as tragic hero. Charnes also discusses Cleopatra’s sophisticated employ- ment of political power. Although her essay has a focus entirely different from mine, Dympna Callaghan also notes critics’ ‘reluctance about recognizing that as the West’s fantasy of the East, Cleopatra achieves tragic stature because of her libidinous nature’ (1996: 53). I agree with James Hirsh (2005), who defends Cleopatra from critics that mistakenly assume that Shakespeare sided with the characters who judge Cleopatra and Egyptianism from a Roman point of view; he notes that Shakespeare ‘daringly infused the play with Cleopatra-like variety and mutability that conspicuously, facetiously, and daringly violate Roman ideas of unity and orderliness’ (189). 5. So far as I have been able to determine, no other commentator – not even A. D. Nuttall, in his well-researched and promisingly titled book Why Does Tragedy Give Pleasure? (1996) – has made this point specifically in regard to drama, where even the language naming the stages seems so clear in sexual connotation. I have, however, found (through Susan Winnett’s citation critiquing him) that Robert Scholes offers a similar observation in regard to fiction and music: ‘The archetype of all fiction is the sexual act [...] what connects fiction – and music – with sex is the fundamental orgastic rhythm of tumescence and detumescence, of tension and resolution, of intensification to the point of climax and consummation’ (Scholes, 1979: 26; Winnett, 1990: 506). Winnett asserts, though, and I concur, that ‘Scholes’s erotics of reading [reveals] that the patriarchy has a simultaneously blind and enlightened investment both in the forms of pleasure and in its conscious valorization and less Notes to Chapter 4 165

conscious mystification of them,’ and ‘this realization does nothing but make it all the more frightening to contemplate the obstacles our own education has placed in the way both of women’s conceiving (of) their own pleasure and of men’s conceding that female pleasure might have a different plot’ (507). One means of overcoming these obstacles may be through a critical methodology that Bruce R. Smith calls ‘historical phe- nomenology’, which ‘offers [...] an erotics of reading’ and ‘asks the reader to take words, not as symbols, signs with only an arbitrary relation to the thing toward which they point, but as indexes, signs with a natural or metonymic connection with somatic experience’ (2000: 326). 6. Historians agree that most of the very few women who might have been in the audience of Greek drama would have been hetairai, courtesans, the highest class of prostitutes, who were also the best educated and most liberated women of the time. The famous hetaira Thaïs of Athens became not only the mistress of Alexander the Great, but later also the wife of Ptolemy I, thus first Ptolemaic queen of Egypt (Dening, 1996: 72). 7. In his Shakespeare and the Art of Humankindness (1990), Robert Kimbrough defines androgyny as ‘fully realized humanity’, which is ‘a state of mind rarely attained and, when achieved, nearly impossible to maintain’; thus ‘androgyny is an ideal goal – a vision of unity and harmony within the confines of the human [...] an end to be essayed’ (4). Asserting that androgyny ‘seeks radical growth, not radical change’, Kimbrough further states that it ‘reaches widely and deeply, running a scale from the personal/societal to the psychic/mythic, and the works of Shakespeare encompass the full range’ (5). Although he comments on Romeo and Juliet and Antony and Cleopatra only briefly, in passing, in his extremely valuable book he analyzes several other of Shakespeare’s plays at length in regard to this concept. 8. Besides mentioning the incident regarding Cassandra, Merlin Stone (1976) further states that a ‘Greek prophet named Melampus was also recorded to have had his ears licked clean by serpents, thus allowing him to understand the language of birds’ and that Philostratus ‘claimed that it was quite common for Arabians to understand divine revelations, especially the sounds of birds, explaining that they had acquired this ability by feeding themselves the heart or liver of serpents’. She recounts various cultures’ drawing of connections between serpents and conferral of insight, including an initiation ritual of southwest Native American braves (212). 9. Traci disapprovingly notes that ‘the descriptions of the “dramatic movement” of the play have been either of the rise-and-fall of Antony or the rise-and-fall of Antony with another rise by Cleopatra in the Fifth Act coda. The descriptions are Aristotelian, rather than Antony-and-Cleopatrian in their orientation’ (1970: 150). 10. Goddard (1951, II) calls this scene (II. viii.) on Pompey’s galley ‘close to Shakespeare’s last word on all the brands of intoxication [... ,] the spirit of tragedy masquerading as farce, the chariot of comedy driven by death’ (188). 166 Notes to Chapter 4

11. Robin Headlam Wells (1994) states that

Of the many illicit relationships contracted by the goddess of love, the most significant for the [early modern] mythographer was her liaison with Mars. Astrologically, Venus and Mars are polar opposites: she is of a loving, sanguine disposition; he, being hot and dry, like the planet to which he gives his name, is characterized by his choleric temperament. When united with Venus, however, the fiery excesses of his nature are tempered by her moist influence. (157)

He continues that ‘it was from this union of opposite principles that harmony was born’ (157), adding that ‘The idea that the harmony of the cos- mos consisted in the amicable reconciliation of fundamentally opposed qualities in a uniquely stable union is of ancient origin. Traditional also is the belief that it is love that is the architect of this discordia concors.’ Thus ‘Venus is inseparable from the idea of harmony, for it is she, the goddess of love, who resolves the discords of the world’ (158). 12. As Gajowski notes, ‘While the text of Antony and Cleopatra is laden with sensual and sexual [innuendoes], any genuinely erotic moments in the play are not Roman fantasies about Cleopatra, but Cleopatra’s jouissance: her pleasurable recollection of her revelries with Antony, for example, during his absence in Rome and her orgasmic [reverie] of joining him in death’ (1992: 98). 13. For references to these critics’ points, see Michael Steppat’s appendix on the criticism of Antony and Cleopatra in the New Variorum Edition (Spevack et al., 1990), especially the Myth and Archetype section, 655–60, dealing too with Isis, Osiris, etc. For a recent examination of the Apollonian and Dionysian modes more generally in tragedy, in regard to their articula- tion in Nietzsche, see Nuttall (1996) and Storm (1998). 14. As Pomeroy (1990) explains,

Aphrodite was endowed with a dual nature, expressed in myth by two versions of her birth. According to one, she was born of the anthropo- morphic intercourse of Zeus and a little-known goddess named Dione. This Aphrodite received the epithet ‘Pandemus’, which should have the political meaning of ‘worshipped by the whole community’. But this meaning was corrupted in the fourth century to signify as well ‘common’, as in ‘common prostitute’. Pandemus is distinguished from the Aphrodite called Urania, who was born out of the genitals thrown into the foam of the sea when the sky god Uranus was castrated. The association with the sea was fostered by the fact that the Greeks con- nected the name of the goddess with their word for foam, aphros. (32)

15. The historical Cleopatra, like many of her royal female Ptolemaic ances- tors, self-consciously associated herself with Aphrodite/Venus; as Pomeroy notes, ‘Aphrodite became to the Ptolemaic queens what Dionysus and Notes to Chapter 4 167

Heracles were to the kings’, with the ‘most practical reason’ being that Aphrodite ‘was the only major Greek goddess associated with territory under Ptolemaic control’, and ‘As early as Homer’ Aphrodite ‘had been known as “the Cyprian” and Cyprus was governed by the Ptolemies’ (1990: 30–1). 16. For Plutarch’s treatment of this myth, see the translation and commentary by Griffiths (1970). Besides those critics discussed in Steppat (Spevack et al., 1990), see, for more recent and thorough analyses of the Isis and Osiris myth as it relates to Antony and Cleopatra, Adelman’s Suffocating Mothers (1992) and Bono’s Literary Transvaluation (1984). Although my analysis has been informed by these commentators’ work, I discuss very different implications. 17. Significantly, Romeo and Antony each introduce his respective complaint about the supposed emasculating influence of his consort with ‘O’. In his excellent article on the subject, Willbern (1980) states that ‘Shakespeare’s Nothing looks like “O” (zero) and sounds like “O” (oh), the basic ejacu- lation that predicts speech, the infant’s Word,’ and its ‘functions range from trivial to extreme’, as it ‘is an infinitely meaningful phoneme, in which are rooted our most basic words about speech’ (249). Furthermore, ‘To say “O” we make the shape with our own mouths. “O” – the sign of nothing, the sound of nothing – underlies speech. Its design underlies writing as well’ (250). 18. The idea that it was necessary for the female to have an orgasm in order to conceive was prevalent during the early modern period and had appeared in medical writings, here and there, for centuries beforehand. Contemporary medical science shows that although female orgasm is not integral to the transpiring of conception, it does increase the likelihood. 19. Willbern states that ‘the womb is traditionally [and in Shakespeare’s works] the circle incarnate’ (1980: 253); Shakespeare also links the vaginal cavity with the ‘Necromantic Circle’, the ‘magical circle that summons up spirits and protects the summoner from them. It represents a parody, or blasphemy, of God’s creative power and is one of the basic geometric and symbolic figures that structures the theatrical stage itself. Speech (dialogue) gives life to (inspires) spirits (actors)’ (254). 20. On these lines, Willbern comments that ‘Shakespeare plays here with several senses of “O” as sound and shape and symbol,’ such that ‘Romeo’s “O” is his hyperbolic moaning and groaning; the Nurse’s meanings include that female (genital) “O” for which rising and falling defines virility, and that grave “O” into which Romeo will ultimately fall (Act V is a set of variations on the theme of Womb and Tomb)’ (1980: 288). 21. Willbern states that the female-associated ‘sexual, bodily senses of Shakespeare’s Nothing and O [...] connect to various myths of symbolic origins’ (1980: 250). The circle emblematized mother, woman, and Mother Earth (Cutner, 1940: 156). The straight line, represented by the letter I, or number 1, symbolized the male; in Egypt, the line attached to the circle depicted the sacred ‘Bar of Isis’, or union of the sexes (158). Willbern 168 Notes to Chapter 4

observes that ‘Lear tries heroically [...] to say “I” in the midst of nothing (“They told me I was everything” [IV. vi. 104]), to be the integer “one” alongside the zero. Yet he becomes, in the Fool’s words, “an O without a figure; [...] nothing” [I. iv. 189–91].’ Thus generally the ‘fearful idea of being no one [...] motivates [...] Shakespeare’s tragedies’, such that ‘hyper- bolically heroic “one-ness” (self-authorship) [...] culminates in tragedy; it adds up finally to nothing. In the shorthand of psychoanalytic termino- logy, oral disintegration encompasses phallic affirmation’ (1980: 258). If, instead of attempting to negate the ‘O’, the ‘I’ chooses to integrate with it (as, I argue, ultimately do Romeo and Antony), physical and spiritual benefits accrue. Cutner states that the union of the ‘O’ and ‘I’ signifies ‘the Highest Divine Mystery’ as well as ‘the full development of the male to the standard of the female’ (1940: 161). Furthermore, whether consciously acknowledged or not, this ancient symbology persists. Cutner adds that a man’s placement of ‘the wedding-ring on his bride’s finger’ approximates ‘the act of sexual intercourse’ (161). In addition, it has a place in the history of prostitution: in ancient Greece, a hetaira seated at a window would signal potential customers by joining thumb and ring finger together to make an ‘O’ sign. A man desirous of her services would so indicate by raising the index finger of his right hand, making an ‘I’ sign (Dupouy, 1925: 204). 22. Ions states that ‘Through association with Khepri, the reborn, resurrected sun, Nut became identified as protectress of the dead, who were pictured lying in her starry bosom,’ and ‘in this role she had wings which she spread over them. The firmament of her body was painted on the inner lid of coffins so that the soul of the deceased might join the blessed dead who became the stars on her belly’ (1968: 50). Commentators on Egyptian mythology agree that Isis absorbs all of the qualities of Nut and also of Hathor. I am extremely grateful to my friend Prof. Tim Alderman, of the English department at West Virginia State College, for providing me with most of the information on Egyptian mythology cited in this chapter. 23. According to Lee Alexander Stone, ‘Priests worshipping [Isis in Egypt] were compelled to wear a garb that symbolized both the male and the female, hence the pallium was devised. The hole through which the head was passed symbolized the yoni, while the rest of the garment was built on the lines of a cross, thus representing the membrum virile’ (1925: 34). 24. Much of the information on Dionysus in this paragraph is summarized from the entry on the god in Benét (1965, I: 273). 25. Lee Alexander Stone (not cited by Eisler) states that ‘The Greeks, in their mysteries, consecrated the symbols of universal fecundity, and the phallus and kteis were publicly exhibited in the sanctuary of Eleusis. The membrum virile, or active organ of generation, was carried to the temple of [Dionysus], and crowned with a garland by one of the most respect- able matrons of the town or city. The Egyptian Osiris and the female pudendum, or symbol of the passive principle of generation, were, in like manner, carried in procession to the temple of Persephone’ (1925: 10). Notes to Chapter 4 169

26. Storm does, though, make the point that ‘The characters in Greek tragedy, [after becoming] individuated, retain their ties to the “mother-womb” of a chorus that continues to mediate their actions and provide an embracing context.’ Thus the ‘ancestral motif of connectedness abides, and the chorus can still be understood as the collective entity against which the actions of the foregrounded personalities are seen – and to which they in fact belong’ (1998: 103). 27. The double-serpent royal uraeus represents the unity of Upper and Lower Egypt, but it has further associations. The same representation is found in the medical caduceus, which, Lee Alexander Stone (1925) states, is ‘an improved Tautic (cross) emblem which symbolized generation or the reciprocal forces of nature in action’, representing ‘the lingam (phallus) receiving energy and potency from Siva [female genitals]’. The significance comes ‘from the fact that the sacred serpents, the cobras, unite sexually in this double circular form’, and ‘Eastern teachers avow that it is most fortunate for anyone to see this serpentine congress, and declare that if a cloth be thrown over them, or even waved so as to touch them, it becomes a form of Lakshni, and therefore of the greatest procreative energy.’ Thus ‘They preserve such a piece of cloth with the greatest care, as a most potent charm, in securing good fortune, in bringing about the birth of numerous and healthy offspring, and in warding off evil influences’ (82–3). Perhaps the handkerchief in Othello was supposed to have been made from such a cloth (III. iv. 57–77). Stone adds that the double-serpent design ‘is also used to indicate the selfish and vampire witch who thus seeks to renew her vitality and arouse her failing passion, so as to indulge in prostitution and destructive lechery which depletes and destroys the victims of her guile, and this without increasing or improving humanity’. Stone furthermore notes that the ‘entwined snakes are also supposed to represent the sun and moon in the conjugal embrace’ (83). 28. Cutner (not cited by Merlin Stone), reporting a version of the Isis–Osiris story, states that ‘It is said that the wood of which the phallus was made was that of the fig-tree, which perhaps suggested the use of the fig-leaf in the story of Adam and Eve’ (1940: 8). He also notes that ‘Fig-leaves were carried in the procession in honor of Osiris; and in Greece and Rome fig- wood was used from which to carve the phallus. The fig resembles the womb and, with its stem, the sistrum of Isis’ (35). 29. Lee Alexander Stone (not cited by Merlin Stone) reports a source stating that the fig ‘was looked upon as the virgin uterus, in contradistinction to the [...] Pomegranate, i.e. the gravid uterus’ (1925: 12). 30. In Ashcroft-Nowicki’s book cited here, The Tree of Ecstasy: An Advanced Manual of Sexual Magic (1999), one can find specific directions on how a couple may perform the sexual ritual of ‘The Raising of Osiris’ (155–67). It involves tracing an outline of the male partner on paper or cloth and cutting it into 13 pieces; the fourteenth piece, representing the missing phallus and testicles, is to be drawn separately, on gold foil, and made into a sheath (157). Various preparations, of the site and of the cleansing, 170 Notes to Chapter 4

costuming, meditations, and exercises of the couple, etc., are detailed and must be performed precisely, and a week of complete celibacy for both must have transpired, before the time when the female may gather together and assemble the scattered pieces of ‘Osiris’. The rite is too com- plicated to summarize adequately here, but elements include the woman’s psychic summoning of her ‘Isis’ power in the form of four silver stars, her channeling of the stars into various power centers in her body, and the man’s psychic linking of himself afterward to each star except for that of the sacred center, the womb, ‘which is for the woman alone’ (161). A script for them to perform is provided that begins with a lamentation of ‘Isis’ for deceased ‘Osiris’ and closes, after their sacred coupling, with a stage direction that they are to ‘rest and visualize the “child” of the rite, the harmony and peace of the world’ (165) (cf. Harmonia as the product of Venus’s mating with Mars). The book also includes directions for ten additional rituals as well as background information on sexual magic, but she unfortunately does not cite sources for her material specifically. It is tempting to speculate that this ritual’s elements are similar to those of the ancient gynogenic dramas. 31. Dupouy states that a representation of an eye was placed between sexual symbols of Isis and Osiris in ceremonials ‘as a mark of the connection between the two sexes’ (1925: 178). Ions notes that ‘The meaning of [Osiris’s] name is uncertain, but it has been interpreted as “to create a throne” and as Seat or Power of the Eye’ (1968: 50). Cf. Cleopatra’s reminder to Antony that ‘Eternity was in our lips and eyes’ (I. iii. 35). 32. Rawson reports that the awakened Kundalini snake ‘is said, by using the fifty Sanskrit letters as the strings of her instrument, to “sing her song” out of which are woven all the forms of the worlds. Anyone who can hear it for what it truly is, in fact becomes liberated’ (1973: 165). This idea seems parallel to the notion of the music of the spheres and its effect on those who hear it. 33. Bynum documents that the ancient Egyptians ‘knew about the effect of sunlight upon the body, particularly as manifested by the hormonal cycle of the pineal gland’, which is ‘responsive to light and has an intimate effect on the circadian rhythms and the biometabolism of the body’. Furthermore, ‘This intimate knowledge of symbolism, endocrinology, and states of consciousness was highly integrated into ancient Kemetic thought over the millennia of civilization’ (1999: 136). 34. Kundalini also involves breath, air, in ways too complex for brief discussion here. See Chaney (1980) passim. 35. Interpreted in that way, the staged sexual act may also have a recapitula- tive political element, as Alexander the Great – conqueror of Egypt by which the Ptolemies (the last of which was Cleopatra) became its rulers – looking to establish divine lineage for himself (as Caesar would also do by laying claim to Venus Genetrix, as discussed above), denied his mortal father Philip by asserting that he was conceived when his mother, Olympias (who, through Plutarch, also happens to be the first Dionysian Notes to Chapter 4 171

maenad whose name is known), had coitus with Zeus in the form of a snake (Pomeroy, 1990: 29). Although Olympias laughed off this story, saying, ‘Will Alexander never stop slandering me in the eyes of Hera?’ (29), Plutarch states in his account of Alexander’s life that

Once a serpent was seen stretched out next to the body of Olympias as she slept, and this, more than anything else, they say, abated the ardor of Philip’s passion for her. Accordingly, he no longer came often to sleep next to her, either because he feared some spells and charms might be put on him by her or thought she had intercourse with some superior being. But there is another story about these matters: All the women of this region were addicted to Orphic rites and the orgies of Dionysus from extreme antiquity [...] Olympias, who affected these divine inspirations more enthusiastically than other women, and performed them in more barbaric fashion, would provide the revel- ers with large tame snakes which often would crawl out from the ivy and the mystic winnowing baskets and wind themselves around the wands and garlands of the women, thus terrifying the men. (Ctd in Pomeroy, 1975: 122)

36. Pomeroy (1975) reports that ‘The cult of Isis was one of the many Oriental mystery religions that stand in dramatic contrast to the traditional cults of Roman religion,’ and ‘Through it the religious and emotional needs of women and men of the Hellenistic and Roman worlds could be expressed and satisfied.’ Yet ‘Isis met with official resistance from the Romans, but ended by having a larger sphere of influence in religious ideas than any [other] of the cults.’ Although ‘Isis was a national divinity of ancient Egypt dating back at least to 2500 B.C.,’ she was ‘a goddess with accre- tions of myths and rituals of many lands by the time she reached the shores of Italy at the end of the second century B.C.’ (217). A goddess of ‘unlimited flexibility’, Isis ‘readily encompassed inconsistencies and mutually contradictory qualities’ and was thus ‘identified with many other Mediterranean goddesses’, from ‘Astarte of Phoenicia, to Fortuna, Athena, Aphrodite, Hestia, Demeter, and Artemis’, besides her assimila- tion of ‘powers associated in the classical world with male divinities’. Furthermore, she was ‘endowed with magical capabilities, could heal the sick, and promised blessed resurrection to her devotees after death’. Isis ‘is the creator, for she divided earth from heaven, assigned languages to nations, and invented alphabets and astronomy’, and her cult ‘lent itself as well to philosophical interpretations’. Thus ‘Isis could be all things to all people, a quality that greatly enhanced her popularity’ (218) – except for the Roman army, who worshipped a male military god (219), and Octavius Caesar, who, after his defeat of Cleopatra, began his deliberate suppression of Isis worship in the Roman Empire (224). Pomeroy comments that Isis ‘did stand for the equality of women, and one cannot help wondering about the nature of the subsequent history of Western women 172 Notes to Chapter 5

if the religion of Isis had been triumphant’ (226). That history includes Britain; Merlin Stone (1976) states that ‘a Thames-side temple of Isis in London and an altar to Isis in Chester both attest to the existence of Her religion in the British Isles’ during the Roman period (227). 37. In ‘Cleopatra’s Carnival’, Drakakis (1996) states that ‘Cleopatra as desire figures the “death” of Rome, a death which can only be conceived within the teleological economy of tragedy, where it is, at least, manageable’ (31). 38. Willbern (1980) argues that ‘Just as “O” as exclamation represents a primitive word at the threshold of speech, and “O” as mark designates the origins of writing, so the various symbolizations of “O” as creative no-thing, or circle, mouth, or womb, underlie primitive conceptions of the theatrical stage itself,’ thereby ‘connecting human procreation and reproduction with stage production’ (256), such that ‘Shakespeare’s O, his Nothing, thus becomes a dialectic, circumscribing the fruitful inter- play between the theatrical mode (what is actually onstage) and the imaginative mode (what is represented to and in the minds of an audience)’ (256–7). Therefore ‘His O describes a relationship’, by which ‘the metaphor of dramatic and poetic creation as procreation was more than merely metaphor; it was the ground, the primary embodiment, of his art’ (257; Willbern’s emphasis).

5 Female Erotic Passion: Toward Sex As You Like It

1. As a corrective to this pervasive assertion, Phyllis Rackin states that ‘Reminders that women were expected to be chaste, silent, and obedient probably occur more frequently in recent scholarship than they did in the literature of Shakespeare’s time’ (2000: 44). 2. In her essay ‘Shakespeare and Sexuality’, Ann Thompson describes Philip Kolin’s annotated bibliography of feminist criticism (1991) by noting that, of the 439 items published between the release of Dusinberre’s first edition (1975) of Shakespeare and the Nature of Women (often credited with the initiation of feminist criticism of Shakespeare) and Kolin’s cut-off point in 1988, only 38 items are listed under ‘sexuality (female)’, with 18 under ‘sexuality (male)’, 5 of them also under ‘sexuality (female)’. Thompson notes that ‘A quite surprisingly high proportion of these, in fact about half, authored by both men and women, deal with the topic of male anxiety about female sexuality’ (2001: 3). However, she also states that ‘one should in fairness note that feminists have been accused of introducing a new kind of Puritanism into the discourse of sexuality’ (4). 3. Couldn’t we at least consider the possibility that for Shakespeare, and for many of his contemporaries who were not writing anti-theatrical tracts, the practice of using boy actors to play female roles might have simply been accepted as a stage convention by most of the audience, like the use of soliloquies to represent private thoughts, a prop tree to establish Notes to Chapter 5 173

a forest, the use of five or six actors to suggest a crowd or an army, or a younger actor playing an older man? Surely Adam in As You Like It was not played by an 80-year-old man. Would the audience be expected to suspend belief in the character as an old man because the actor was ‘really’ younger? Perhaps Shakespeare disapproved of the prohibition of actresses – besides Rosalind’s speaking of proving a ‘busy actor’ in the ‘play’ (III. iv. 56) between Silvius and Phebe, he also has Julia in The Two Gentlemen of Verona speak of acting experience in IV. iv. 157–71 (she is disguised as a male at the time, but seems to know what she’s talking about regarding acting). What troubles me most is that by overemphasizing the fact that males played female roles, critics continue to keep women removed from the English early modern theatrical experience, such that they disallow women from identifying with female characters and seeing in their prob- lems visionary versions of their own. 4. Shakespeare may have set Measure for Measure in Vienna in order to retain the option of life in a nunnery for women, as, under Henry VIII, England’s nunneries had been closed down, leaving women without the option of removal from the sexual economy by a professional religious life. See Jankowski’s book Pure Resistance (2000b), passim. 5. Although it has proved difficult for critics to determine which parts of The Two Noble Kinsmen are by Shakespeare and which by Fletcher, A Midsummer Night’s Dream may provide some clues. In both plays the primary court power figure is Duke Theseus, whose bride is Hippolyta, and in both he attempts to coerce a female character to wed a man whom she does not desire. In A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Theseus discusses the issue of Hermia’s sexuality by means of a flower metaphor, and in The Two Noble Kinsmen the flower metaphor for female sexuality is employed by Emilia. It strikes me as likely that Shakespeare is revisiting the flower of female sexuality issue in The Two Noble Kinsmen and there allowing it an alternative mode of sensibility. Thus I believe that the parts of The Two Noble Kinsmen dealing with Emilia were composed by Shakespeare. 6. Hyland, in his book on Shakespeare’s poems, counts himself among those who believe that A Lover’s Complaint is indeed by Shakespeare and that ‘it should be read as having an essential relationship with the sonnet sequence that it accompanies’ (2003: 187). He furthermore notes that Samuel Daniel, Thomas Lodge, and Michael Drayton had each attached a complaint poem to his respective sonnet sequence. Hyland also sees connection to the Sonnets in Shakespeare’s choice of rhyme royal for the Complaint: ‘what is rhyme royal if not a kind of half-sonnet?’ (189). Yet the ‘momentum’ of the Sonnets ‘is suddenly frustrated by the rhyme royal, which begins by hinting at the completion of the sonnet form, but then withholds it. The sense of frustration thus generated is replicated by the larger structure of the “Complaint,” which also refuses completion by denying expectations set up at its beginning’ (189–90). 7. Paul Budra, noting that ‘there are very few true seductions in Shakespeare’s plays and none in his comedies of love’, defines ‘true seduction’ as ‘an 174 Notes to Chapter 6

encounter in which one person convinces another, initially uninterested or hostile, to agree to a sexual relationship in or out of marriage’ (2008: 98). He does not discuss Shakespeare’s poetry, but A Lover’s Complaint definitely includes seduction by his definition. 8. Although Joel Fineman uses the Sonnets’ phrase ‘perjured eye’ in the title of his book (1986), he neglects to discuss what I consider the sonnets that resolve the persona’s ‘perjured eye’ problem, 153 and 154.

6 Venus: Mother of All ‘Whores’

1. Schoenbaum states that ‘Multitudes bought Venus and Adonis’, and ‘No other work by Shakespeare achieved so many printings during this period. Readers thumbed it until it fell to pieces; so we may infer from the fact that for most editions only a single copy has survived’ (1977: 176; ctd in Kolin, 1997b: 4). 2. Although Lacanian interpreters Halpern and Schiffer each find frustration in a lack of the phallus in Venus and Adonis, they literally miss the point, because many of Shakespeare’s male contemporary readers were able to ‘see it feelingly’ (King Lear IV. vi. 149). Williams states that Elizabethan love poets generally ‘were effectively supplying handbooks of sexual psychology, often the most subtle and penetrating accounts then available. To read them could result in a deepening of perceptions or expanding of the consciousness; hence the quality of personal relationships might actually be improved through acquaintance with love poetry,’ as ‘there was a closer relationship between reading or writing about love and actually making it than we would expect today’ (1996: 61), and specifically ‘by the 1590s Shakespeare’s poem would have been an obvious text to prescribe’ as treatment for ‘sexual impotence’ (10). Duncan-Jones (1993) maintains that ‘For the Elizabethans [...] Shakespeare’s poem was susceptible of numberless applications and adaptations, all associated with erotic play and enchantment’ (498; ctd in Kolin, 1997b: 10). Kolin similarly notes that, continuing into the seventeenth century, the poem was ‘capable of promoting love [...] a survival manual, a handy aphrodisiac’, and ‘Perhaps no part of Venus and Adonis better contributed to its reputation [...] than the goddess’ description of herself’ as deer park, which was quoted in other poems and plays (1997b: 12). Surely Bevington rightly accounts for this aphrodisial phenomenon for heterosexual men with his point that ‘Adonis’ passive role invites the male reader to fantasize himself in Adonis’ place, being seduced by the goddess of beauty’ (1997: 1609), and Sheidley (1974) relatedly argues (in somewhat politically incorrect phrasing) that Adonis offends male readers because, unlike ‘the properly ordered male’, he does not ‘accept and realize his phallic potential’, and his death ‘stands in place of the consummation the poem always points toward and causes its readers to desire’ (13; ctd in Kolin, 1997b: 29). Thus, through this poem, Shakespeare seduced many of his male readers of the Notes to Chapter 6 175

sixteenth and seventeenth centuries (if few in subsequent times, including our own) to reject the attitude of Adonis and desire to make love to a female like Venus, with some, apparently, even directly involving Venus and Adonis in their wooing of and foreplay with partners. 3. Two of the very few truly feminist insights into the poem are found in Nona Fienberg’s thesis that ‘In her confrontation of Adonis’ value system with her own more dynamic sense of multiplicity, [Venus] provides a way to reevaluate patriarchy’ (1997: 247) and her assertion that ‘Venus becomes [...] a part of the cultural work of her own time and of ours’ (248). Although her analysis takes a very different stance than mine, Heather Dubrow’s chapter on the poem in her book Captive Victors (1987) is quite insightful and valuable. 4. Wells (1994) continues that ‘In the Renaissance the myth of Mars and Venus came to be seen as an allegory of the Creation itself’ (158). 5. See Chapter 2 on use of the word ‘whore’ and Chapter 3 for information on the goddess as both virgin and whore. 6. Friedrich states that ‘Aphrodite’s power cuts across the categories of animal, mortal, and god,’ and ‘“nature” in connection with Aphrodite’s liminality [...] refer[s] to fertility and procreation and to sexual drive, desire, and satisfaction’ (1978: 143). 7. Some treatments of the myth before and after Shakespeare were in paint- ings; see Ziegler (1997). 8. Paglia states that ‘On her native Cyprus, Aphrodite was worshipped as the Venus Barbata, the Bearded Venus. Her image wore female clothing but had a beard and male genitals. Ritual sacrifices were conducted by men and women in transvestite dress. Elsewhere, as the Venus Calva or Bald Venus, Aphrodite was shown with a man’s bald head, like priests of Isis’ (1991: 87). I interpret these representations to signify not only Aphrodite’s linking of male and female into one merged figure during heterosexual coitus, but also her patronage of male and female heterosexuality and homosexuality. Paglia adds that ‘The androgynous beautiful boy has an androgynous sponsor, the male-born Uranian Aphrodite whom Plato identifies with homosexual love’ (122–3). Since Shakespeare’s Adonis is an ‘androgynous beautiful boy’, this piece of information suggests that the boar as Venus’s rival does not necessarily represent male homosexuality, as Venus patronizes it as well. Adonis seems to be rejecting sexual partners of either kind through denying Venus. Friedrich notes that in her poetry, ‘Sappho’s goddess [Aphrodite] is a projection of herself’ who ‘patronizes love between man and woman and between women’ (1978: 108). Friedrich provides the additional interesting details that Sappho’s poetry ‘contains the first mention in Greek literature of the lover, Adonis’ (107–8) and that ‘Unlike Homer, Sappho does refer to courtesans’ in connection with Aphrodite (115). 9. Venus’s description of Adonis’s death wound makes plain that the boar castrated Adonis: ‘“by a kiss thought to persuade him there; / And nuz- zling in his flank, the loving swine / Sheath’d unaware the tusk in his soft 176 Notes to Chapter 7

groin”’ (1114–16). Some critics have tried to make Venus the castrator, by reading the boar as another manifestation of the goddess, which is untenable, as she repeatedly identifies the boar as her enemy. She does, however, once link herself with the boar. ‘“Had I been tooth’d like him, I must confess, / With kissing him I should have kill’d him first”’ (1117–18). Keeping in mind the placement of Adonis’s wound, we might interpret that Venus images that she could have been capable of killing Adonis through excessive fellatio. 10. As Lefkowitz determines, ‘It seems clear that it is the early Christians, rather than the ancient Greeks, who first become conscious of, if not obsessed with, the dangers of women’s sexuality, and that it is from them rather than Aeschylus, Euripides or Plato, that the fear of women’s bodies (rather than their minds) ultimately derives’ (1986: 131). Such an attitude, and with such tactics, from the early Christians, and further perpetrated through the church’s subsequent anti-feminism, I believe, would have been strongly condemned rather than endorsed by Jesus himself, a very wise moral philosopher, whose teachings could very well benefit human civilization if they were ever to be seriously followed. 11. Although Shakespeare’s Venus also can and does become aroused enough for immediate penetration from a minimal amount of direct stimulation by Adonis (so may sometimes enjoy a ‘quickie’), the imperative verbs that she employs in her description of herself to Adonis as a deer park – ‘“Feed,”’ ‘“graze,”’ and ‘“stray”’ (232–4) – connote her request and probable prefer- ence for unhurried foreplay and love-making, as do her previously discussed lines ‘“A thousand kisses buys my heart from me; / And pay them at thy leisure, one by one. / What is ten hundred touches unto thee? / [...] / Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?”’ (517–19, 522). Adonis, however, did not turn out to be one who was willing or able to provide such, prefer- ring both to regard divine Venus in an attitude of degradation and to seek his premature death through boorish/boarish means independent of her satisfaction that belong to the realm of selfish pig incapable of appreciat- ing gift and receipt of artistry and beauty in amorous rites. Venus could have then just dropped him on the reject pile of compost and moved on to ‘“sport”’ herself (154) with another, better partner – which it is possible to interpret that she eventually did. Yet we may easily extrapolate that in Venus and Adonis Shakespeare was counseling heterosexual women that they had the right to request such extensive love-making and instructing heterosexual men that it was in their own best interests, ultimate pleasure, and spiritual and reproductive benefit to provide it.

7 Stripping Shakespeare’s ‘Whores’

1. This chapter is based upon the text of a paper that I first presented in a seminar at the Shakespeare Association of America Convention, in Notes to Chapter 7 177

Miami, Florida, in April 2001, and then read in shortened form at the California State University Shakespeare Symposium in Bakersfield, California, in May 2001. At the conclusion of discussion of my paper in the Miami seminar as well as after reading it at Bakersfield, I did a ‘strip-tease’ dance, to David Rose’s song ‘The Stripper’, making me, I believe, the only person ever to have performed a ‘strip-tease’ at scholarly Shakespeare forums. The ‘stages’ of my dance were sartorially reflected in the item of attire that my text associates with a female character in Shakespeare’s works. 2. The term ‘Bardolator’ was first coined by George Bernard Shaw. 3. To represent cross-dressed ‘doctor’ of law ‘Portia’, I wore my Ph.D. academic regalia at the Bakersfield Shakespeare Symposium, but only the tam of it at the Miami SAA convention. All other elements of my attire were the same on both occasions. 4. I shook off the academic regalia of ‘Portia’ to become ‘Doll Tearsheet’. 5. I had removed the black chiffon overskirt representing the kirtle of ‘Doll’ and swung it over my head before tossing it to the floor. 6. I removed a black fringed underskirt representing the fringed petticoat mentioned by ‘Rosalind’. 7. I stripped off the black suit coat representing the ‘dark lady’. 8. I wore a gold sequin bra to represent ‘Cleopatra’, with a rhinestone snake pin in the middle front of the bra. 9. Having taken off the ‘Cleopatra’ bra, I covered my chest area with a large black plastic plate in the shape of a shell. 10. Geoffrey Grigson states that ‘in the second century B.C. little coloured figures were commonly made – to put in tombs or to offer at the shrines of Aphrodite – which show Aphrodite not so much travelling on a shell as appearing from a shell’, looking ‘new-made and naked, as if she had grown inside the scallop rather than in the sea itself’ (1976: 39). And, he asks, ‘Why shouldn’t the foam, the sperm of the [severed] genitals [of Uranus], have ripened in the soft bed enclosed and protected by the two valves of the scallop? [...] Kteis, the Greek word for a scallop [...] also meant the private parts of a woman. So there, in this sea-womb, this sea-matrix, is the new goddess perfected [...] Also, in her terracotta shell Aphrodite sometimes holds a man’s member in her hand, completing her image as the goddess both of the kteis of women and its counter-organ in men’ (39). The most common epithet applied to Aphrodite/Venus is ‘smile-loving’, which in the Greek philommeides is a pun on ‘penis[or genitals, especially male]-loving’ (Friedrich, 1978: 202–4), in ‘celebration’ of ‘her nature and her origins’ (Grigson, 1976: 20–1) – and, I would add, in probable acknowledgement that, even if it can be seriously divine, mystical, ritual, philosophical, etc., sex should also be understood as both fun and, sometimes, funny. 11. For the ‘girdle of Venus’, I wore a silver sequin sash over my lower hip area, with a representation of Botticelli’s Venus attached to the center of it. When I stripped off the sash, I covered my lower torso area with another large black ‘seashell’ plate. 178 Notes to Chapter 7

12. In the finale of the dance, the large black plastic seashells were stripped away to reveal, on a silver leotard that I wore representing the naked goddess-soul, my ‘pasties’. Over the nipple area of one breast, I had attached a picture of Shakespeare from a bookseller’s catalogue, with the banner reading ‘Shakespeare’s Comedies’, and over the other breast’s nipple area was the same kind of picture, but with the banner reading ‘Shakespeare’s Tragedies’. The ‘pastie’ covering the genital area was a button depicting Shakespeare, with the words ‘Will Power’. Bibliography

Abrams, Richard (l985) ‘Gender Confusion and Sexual Politics in The Two Noble Kinsmen.’ Drama, Sex, and Politics. Ed. James Redmond. Cambridge University Press. 69–76. Adelman, Janet (1973) The Common Liar: An Essay on Antony and Cleopatra. New Haven: Yale University Press. ——— (1992) Suffocating Mothers: Fantasies of Maternal Origin in Shakespeare’s Plays, Hamlet to The Tempest. New York: Routledge. Alexander, Catherine M. S., and Stanley Wells, eds (2001) Shakespeare and Sexuality. Cambridge University Press. Anderson, Bonnie S., and Judith P. Zinsser (1988) A History of Their Own: Women in Europe from Prehistory to the Present. Vol. 1. London and New York: Penguin. Arscott, Caroline, and Katie Scott (2000) ‘Introducing Venus.’ Manifestations of Venus: Art and Sexuality. Ed. Caroline Arscott and Katie Scott. Manchester University Press. 1–23. Ashcroft-Nowicki, Dolores (1999) The Tree of Ecstasy: An Advanced Manual of Sexual Magic. York Beach, ME: Weiser. Baring, Anne, and Jules Cashford (1991) The Myth of the Goddess: Evolution of an Image. New York: Penguin. Baron, Dennis (1982) Grammar and Good Taste: Reforming the American Language. New Haven: Yale University Press. Bartlett, Sarah (1998) Women, Sex and Astrology. London: Black Lace. Barton, Anne (1972) ‘“Nature’s Piece ’Gainst Fancy”: The Divided Catastrophe in Antony and Cleopatra.’ An Inaugural Lecture (to the Hildred Carlile Chair of English Literature in the University of London tenable at Bedford College, October 1972). Rpt in William Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra (1988). Ed. and intro. Harold Bloom. New York: Chelsea. 35–55. Bell, Ilona (1999) ‘“That which thou hast done”: Shakespeare’s Sonnets and A Lover’s Complaint.’ Shakespeare’s Sonnets: Critical Essays. Ed. James Schiffer. New York: Garland. 455–74. Bell, Shannon (1994) Reading, Writing, and Rewriting the Prostitute Body. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Belsey, Catherine (1985) ‘Disrupting Sexual Difference: Meaning and Gender in the Comedies.’ Alternative Shakespeares. Ed. John Drakakis. London and New York: Methuen. 166–90. Benét, William Rose (1965) The Reader’s Encyclopedia, 2 vols, 2nd edn. New York: Crowell. Bevington, David (1997) Headnote to Venus and Adonis. Shakespeare 1608–9. Bolen, Jean Shinoda (1984) Goddesses in Everywoman: A New Psychology of Women. Foreword by Gloria Steinem. New York: Harper & Row.

179 180 Bibliography

Bonheim, Jalaja, ed. and Introduction (1997) Goddess: A Celebration in Art and Literature. New York: Stewart, Tabori and Chang. Bono, Barbara J. (1984) Literary Transvaluation: From Vergilian Epic to Shakespearean Tragicomedy. Berkeley: University of California Press. Brown, John Russell (2001) ‘Representing Sexuality in Shakespeare’s Plays.’ Alexander and Wells 168–82. Budra, Paul (2008) ‘Affecting Desire in Shakespeare’s Comedies of Love.’ Comedies of Love: Essays in Honour of Alexander Leggatt. Ed. Karen Bamford and Rick Knowles. University of Toronto Press. 98–109. Burchfield, R. W., ed. (1986) A Supplement to The Oxford English Dictionary, 4 vols. Oxford: Clarendon. Burford, E. J. (1973) The Orrible Synne: A Look at London Lechery from Roman to Cromwellian Times. London: Calder & Boyars. ——— (1993) The Bishop’s Brothels. London: Hale. Burt, Richard (1998) Unspeakable Shaxxxspeares: Queer Theory and American Kiddie Culture. New York: St. Martin’s. Bynum, Edward Bruce (1999) The African Unconscious: Roots of Ancient Mysticism and Modern Psychology. New York and London: Teachers College Press. Callaghan, Dympna (1996) ‘Representing Cleopatra in the Post-colonial Moment.’ Wood 40–65. ——— ed. (2000) A Feminist Companion to Shakespeare. Oxford: Blackwell. Callaghan, Dympna, Lorraine Helms, and Jyotsna Singh (l994) The Weyward Sisters: Shakespeare and Feminist Politics. Oxford and Cambridge, MA: Blackwell. Carroll, William C. (1985) The Metamorphoses of Shakespearean Comedy. Princeton University Press. Chaney, Earlyne, and William L. Messick (1980) Kundalini and the Third Eye: The Eye of the Soul in Antiquity and in the Aquarian Age. Part 1 by Chaney, Part 2 by Messick. Commerce, CA: Stockton. Charnes, Linda (1993) Notorious Identity: Materializing the Subject in Shakespeare. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Charney, Maurice (2000) Shakespeare on Love and Lust. New York: Columbia University Press. Craik, Katharine A. (2007) Reading Sensations in Early Modern England. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Crowley, Karlyn (2011) Feminism’s New Age: Gender, Appropriation, and the Afterlife of Essentialism. Albany: State University of New York Press. Cutner, H. (1940) A Short History of Sex-Worship. London: Watts. Davis, Philip G. (1998) Goddess Unmasked: The Rise of Neopagan Feminist Spirituality. Dallas: Spence. Dening, Sarah (1996) The Mythology of Sex: An Illustrated Exploration of Sexual Customs and Practices from Ancient Times to the Present. New York: Macmillan. Drakakis, John, ed. and intro. (1994) New Casebooks: Antony and Cleopatra. New York: St. Martin’s. ——— (1996) ‘Cleopatra’s Carnival.’ International Shakespeare: The Tragedies. Ed. Patricia Kennan and Mariangela Tempera. Bologna: Cooperativa Universitaria Editrice Bologna. 29–40. Bibliography 181

Drouin, Jennifer (2009) ‘Diana’s Band: Safe Spaces, Publics, and Early Modern Lesbianism.’ Queer Renaissance Historiography: Backward Gaze. Ed. Vin Nardizzi, Stephen Guy-Bray, and Will Stockton. Aldershot: Ashgate. 85–110. Dubrow, Heather (1987) Captive Victors: Shakespeare’s Narrative Poems and Sonnets. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Duncan-Jones, Katherine (1993) ‘Much Ado with Red and White: The Earliest Readers of Shakespeare’s Venus and Adonis.’ Review of English Studies 44: 479–501. ——— ed. (1997) Shakespeare’s Sonnets. The Arden Shakespeare. 3rd Series. London: Thomson. Dupouy, Edmund (1925) ‘Prostitution in Antiquity.’ Appendix in L. Stone. 149–301. Dusinberre, Juliet (1996) Shakespeare and the Nature of Women, 2nd edn. 1975. London: Macmillan. Eisler, Riane (1996) Sacred Pleasure: Sex, Myth, and the Politics of the Body. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco. Empson, William (1951) ‘Honest in Othello.’ The Structure of Complex Words. London: Chatto & Windus. Rpt in Othello: A Selection of Critical Essays (1971). Ed. John Wain. London: Macmillan. 98–122. Fienberg, Nona (1989) ‘Thematics of Value in Venus and Adonis.’ Criticism 31: 21–32. Rpt in Kolin, Venus and Adonis: Critical Essays (1997). 247–58. Fineman, Joel (1986) Shakespeare’s Perjured Eye: The Invention of Poetic Subjectivity in the Sonnets. Berkeley: University of California Press. Fitz [Woodbridge], Linda T. (1977) ‘Egyptian Queens and Male Reviewers: Sexist Attitudes in Antony and Cleopatra Criticism.’ Shakespeare Quarterly 28: 297–316. Rpt in Drakakis (1994). 182–211. Frey, Charles (1978) ‘The Sweetest Rose: As You Like It as Comedy of Reconciliation.’ New York Literary Forum 1: 167–83. Friedrich, Paul (1978) The Meaning of Aphrodite. University of Chicago Press. Fuss, Diana (1989) Essentially Speaking: Feminism, Nature, and Difference. New York: Routledge. Gajowski, Evelyn (1992) The Art of Loving: Female Subjectivity and Male Discursive Traditions in Shakespeare’s Tragedies. Newark: University of Delaware Press. ——— (2007) ‘Lavinia as “Blank Page” and the Presence of Feminist Critical Practices.’ Grady and Hawkes 121–40. Gimbutas, Marija (1982) The Goddesses and Gods of Old Europe. Berkeley: University of California Press. Goddard, Harold C. (1951) The Meaning of Shakespeare. Vol. 2. University of Chicago Press. Grady, Hugh (2007) ‘Hamlet and the Present: Notes on the Moving Aesthetic “Now”.’ Grady and Hawkes 141–63. Grady, Hugh, and Terence Hawkes, eds (2007) Presentist Shakespeares. London: Routledge. Green, Lyn (1994) ‘Isis, the Egyptian Goddess Who Endured in the Græco- Roman World.’ KMT: A Modern Journal of Ancient Egypt 5.4: 60–70. 182 Bibliography

Greene, Gayle, and Coppélia Kahn (1985) Making a Difference: Feminist Literary Criticism. London: Methuen. Griffiths, J. Gwyn, ed. and trans. (1970) Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride. Intro. and com. by J. Gwyn Griffiths. Cambridge: University of Wales Press. Grigson, Geoffrey (1976) The Goddess of Love: The Birth, Triumph, Death and Return of Aphrodite. London: Constable. Grindon, Mrs Leo [Rosa L.] (1909) A Woman’s Study of Antony and Cleopatra. Manchester: Sherratt. Gubar, Susan (1985) ‘“The Blank Page” and the Issues of Female Creativity.’ The New Feminist Criticism: Essays on Women, Literature, and Theory. Ed. Elaine Showalter. New York: Pantheon. 292–313. Gurr, Andrew (1987) Playgoing in Shakespeare’s London. Cambridge University Press. Halpern, Richard (1997) ‘“Pining Their Maws”: Female Readers and the Erotic Ontology of the Text in Shakespeare’s Venus and Adonis.’ Kolin 377–88. Hamer, Mary (1996) ‘Reading Antony and Cleopatra through Irigaray’s Speculum.’ Wood 66–91. Hannah, Judith Lynne (1988) Dance, Sex and Gender. University of Chicago Press. Harrison, Jane Ellen (1962) Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion. 1903. London: Merlin. Haselkorn, Anne M. (1983) Prostitution in Elizabethan and Jacobean Comedy. Troy, NY: Whitston. Hirsh, James (2005) ‘Rome and Egypt in Antony and Cleopatra and in Criticism of the Play.’ Antony and Cleopatra: New Critical Essays. Ed. Sara Munson Deats. New York: Routledge. 175–91. Hornstein, Lillian Herlands, et al. (1956) The Reader’s Companion to World Literature. New York: Mentor. Hughes-Hallett, Lucy (1990) Cleopatra: Histories, Dreams and Distortions. New York: Harper. Hyland, Peter (2003) An Introduction to Shakespeare’s Poems. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Ingram, Angela J. C. (1984) In the Posture of a Whore: Changing Attitudes to ‘Bad’ Women in Elizabethan and Jacobean Drama, 2 vols. Salzburg: Institut für Anglistik. Ions, Veronica (1968) Egyptian Mythology. London: Hamlyn. Jankowski, Theodora A. (2000a) ‘... in the Lesbian Void: Woman–Woman Eroticism in Shakespeare’s Plays.’ Callaghan 299–319. ——— (2000b) Pure Resistance: Queer Virginity in Early Modern English Drama. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Jones, Ann Rosalind (1986) ‘City Women and Their Audiences: Louise Labé and Veronica Franco.’ Rewriting the Renaissance: The Discourses of Sexual Differentiation in Early Modern Europe. Ed. Margaret W. Ferguson, Maureen Quilligan, and Nancy J. Vickers. University of Chicago Press. 299–316, 390–2. Kahn, Coppélia (1997) Roman Shakespeare: Warriors, Wounds, and Women. New York and London: Routledge. Bibliography 183

Keach, William (1977) Elizabethan Erotic Narratives: Irony and Pathos in the Ovidian Poetry of Shakespeare, Marlowe, and Their Contemporaries. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Keller, Mara Lynn (1988) ‘The Eleusinian Mysteries of Demeter and Persephone.’ Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 4 (Spring): 27–54. Keuls, Eva (1993) The Reign of the Phallus: Sexual Politics in Ancient Athens. Berkeley: University of California Press. Kimbrough, Robert (1982) ‘Shakespeare’s Androgyny Seen Through Disguise.’ Shakespeare Quarterly 33: 17–33. ——— (1990) Shakespeare and the Art of Humankindness: The Essay Toward Androgyny. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities. Kolin, Philip C. (1991) Shakespeare and Feminist Criticism: An Annotated Bibliography and Commentary. New York: Garland. ——— ed. (1997a) Venus and Adonis: Critical Essays. New York: Garland. ——— (1997b) ‘Venus and/or Adonis Among the Critics.’ Kolin (1997a): 3–65. Korda, Natasha (2002) Shakespeare’s Domestic Economies: Gender and Property in Early Modern England. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Kramarae, Cheris, and Paula A. Treichler, with assist. from Ann Russo (1985) A Feminist Dictionary. London: Pandora. Kuhn, Maura Slattery (1977) ‘Much Virtue in “If”.’ Shakespeare Quarterly 28: 40–50. Laroque, François (1991) Shakespeare’s Festive World: Elizabethan Seasonal Entertainment and the Professional Stage. Trans. Janet Lloyd. Cambridge University Press. Lefkowitz, Mary R. (1986) Women in Greek Myth. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Lenz, Carol Ruth Swift, Gayle Greene, and Carol Thomas Neely, eds (1980) The Woman’s Part: Feminist Criticism of Shakespeare. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Liebler, Naomi Conn (1995) Shakespeare’s Festive Tragedy: The Ritual Foundations of Genre. London and New York: Routledge. Manniche, Lise (1994) ‘Divine Reflections of Female Behavior.’ KMT: A Modern Journal of Ancient Egypt 5.4: 52–9. McLuskie, Kathleen (1985) ‘The Patriarchal Bard: Feminist Criticism and Shakespeare: King Lear and Measure for Measure.’ Political Shakespeare: New Essays in Cultural Materialism. Ed. Jonathan Dollimore and Alan Sinfield. University of Manchester Press. 88–108. McNeill, Fiona (2007) Poor Women in Shakespeare. Cambridge University Press. Murray, James A. H., Henry Bradley, W. A. Craigie, and C. T. Onions (1933, Rpt 1977, online version 2013) The Oxford English Dictionary, 12 vols. Oxford: Clarendon. Neely, Carol Thomas (1980) ‘Women and Men in Othello: “What should such a fool / Do with so good a woman?”’ Lenz, Greene, and Neely 211–39. Neill, Michael, ed. and intro. (1994) The Oxford Shakespeare: The Tragedy of Anthony and Cleopatra. Oxford: Clarendon. Nuttall, A. D. (1996) Why Does Tragedy Give Pleasure? Oxford University Press. 184 Bibliography

O’Dair, Sharon (2000) Class, Critics, and Shakespeare: Bottom Lines on the Culture Wars. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Paglia, Camille (1991) Sexual Personae: Art and Decadence from Nefertiti to Emily Dickinson. New York: Vintage. Park, Clara Claiborne (1980) ‘As We Like It: How a Girl Can Be Smart and Still Popular.’ Lenz, Greene, and Neely 100–16. Pernoud, Regine (1955) The Retrial of Joan of Arc. Trans. J. M. Cohen. New York: Harcourt. Pomeroy, Sarah B. (1975) Goddesses, Whores, Wives, and Slaves: Women in Classical Antiquity. New York: Schocken. ——— (1990) Women in Hellenistic Egypt: From Alexander to Cleopatra. Detroit: Wayne State University Press. Qualls-Corbett, Nancy (1988) The Sacred Prostitute: Eternal Aspect of the Feminine. Foreword by Marion Woodman. Toronto: Inner City Books. Rabkin, Norman (1967) Shakespeare and the Common Understanding. New York: Free Press. Rackin, Phyllis (1972) ‘Shakespeare’s Boy Cleopatra, the Decorum of Nature and the Golden World of Poetry.’ PMLA 87: 201–12. Rpt in Drakakis (1994). 78–100. ——— (1985) ‘Anti-Historians: Women’s Roles in Shakespeare’s Histories.’ Theatre Journal 37: 329–44. ——— (1987) ‘Androgyny, Mimesis, and the Marriage of the Boy Heroine on the English Renaissance Stage.’ PMLA 102: 29–41. ——— (2000) ‘Misogyny is Everywhere.’ Callaghan 42–56. Rawson, Philip (1973) The Art of Tantra. London: Thames and Hudson. Reeder, Greg (1998) ‘Musings on the Sexual Nature of the Human-headed Ba Bird.’ KMT: A Modern Journal of Ancient Egypt 9.3: 72–8. Ringdal, Nils Johan (2004) Love for Sale: A World History of Prostitution. Trans. Richard Daly. New York: Grove. Roberts, Nickie (1992) Whores in History: Prostitution in Western Society. New York: HarperCollins. Rubinstein, Frankie (1989) A Dictionary of Shakespeare’s Sexual Puns and their Significance, 2nd edn. New York: St. Martin’s. Ruether, Rosemary Radford (2005) Goddesses and the Divine Feminine: A Western Religious History. Berkeley: University of California Press. Ryan, Kiernan (1995) Shakespeare, 2nd edn. London and New York: Prentice. ——— (2003) ‘Shakespearean Comedy and Romance: The Utopian Imagination.’ New Casebooks: Shakespeare’s Romances. Ed. Alison Thorne. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. 27–52. Rpt of 106–35 from Shakespeare (2001) 3rd edn. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. ——— (2007) ‘Troilus and Cressida: The Perils of Presentism.’ Grady and Hawkes 164–83. ——— (2009) Shakespeare’s Comedies. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Saslow, James (1986) Ganymede in the Renaissance: Homosexuality in Art and Society. New Haven: Yale University Press. Schiffer, James (1997) ‘Shakespeare’s Venus and Adonis: A Laconian Tragicomedy of Desire.’ Kolin 359–76. Bibliography 185

Schoenbaum, Samuel (1977) Shakespeare: A Compact Documentary Life. Oxford University Press. Scholes, Robert (1979) ‘The Orgastic Pattern of Fiction.’ Fabulation and Metafiction. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Schulz, Muriel (1975) ‘The Semantic Derogation of Women.’ Language and Sex Difference and Dominance. Ed. Barrie Thorne and Nancy Henley. Rowley, MA: Newberry House. 64–73. Shakespeare, William (1886) Othello. New Variorum Edition. (Rpt 1963). Ed. Horace Howard Furness. New York: Dover. ——— (1969) The Complete Works. Ed. Alfred Harbage. New York: Pelican/ Viking. ——— (1997) The Complete Works of Shakespeare. Ed. David Bevington. Updated 4th edn. New York: Longman. Sheidley, William E. (1974) ‘“Unless It Be a Boar”: Love and Wisdom in Shakespeare’s Venus and Adonis.’ Modern Language Quarterly 35: 3–15. Simpson, Lucie (1928) ‘Shakespeare’s Cleopatra.’ Fortnightly Review ns 129: 332–42. Singh, Jyotsna (1994) ‘The Interventions of History: Narratives of Sexuality.’ Callaghan, Helms, and Singh 7–58. Smith, Bruce R. (2000) ‘Premodern Sexualities.’ PMLA 115: 318–29. Spevack, Marvin, comp. (1973) The Harvard Concordance to Shakespeare. Cambridge, MA: Belknap. Spevack, Marvin, Michael Steppat, and Marga Munkelt, eds (1990) A New Variorum Edition of Shakespeare: Antony and Cleopatra. New York: MLA. Stallybrass, Peter (1986) ‘Patriarchal Territories: The Body Enclosed.’ Rewriting the Renaissance: The Discourses of Sexual Differentiation in Early Modern Europe. Ed. Margaret W. Ferguson, Maureen Quilligan, and Nancy J. Vickers. University of Chicago Press. 123–42, 344–7. Stanley, Julia P. (1977) ‘Paradigmatic Woman: The Prostitute.’ Papers in Language Variation. Ed. David L. Shores and Carol P. Hines. Birmingham: University of Alabama Press, 1977. 303–21. Stanton, Kay (1985) ‘The Disguises of Shakespeare’s As You Like It.’ Iowa State Journal of Research 59: 295–305. ——— (1988) ‘Shakespeare’s Use of Marlowe in As You Like It.’ ‘A Poet and a Filthy Play-maker’: New Essays on Christopher Marlowe. Ed. Kenneth Friedenreich, Roma Gill, and Constance Kuriyama. New York: AMS. 23–35. ——— (1989) ‘Remembering Patriarchy in As You Like It.’ Shakespeare: Text, Subtext, and Context. Ed. Ronald Dotterer. Cranbury, NJ: Associated University Press. 139–49. ——— (1992) ‘All’s Well in Love and War.’ Ideological Approaches to Shakespeare: The Practice of Theory. Ed. Robert P. Merrix and Nicholas Ranson. Lewiston, NY: Mellon. ——— (1994) ‘Hamlet’s Whores.’ New Essays on Hamlet. Ed. Mark Thornton Burnett and John Manning. New York: AMS. 167–88. ——— (1995) ‘Paying Tribute: Shakespeare’s Cymbeline, the “Woman’s Part”, and Italy.’ Il Mondo Italiano del Teatro Inglese del Rinascimento: Relazioni Culturali e Intertestualità [The Italian World of English Renaissance Drama: 186 Bibliography

Cultural Exchange and Intertextuality]. Ed. Michele Marrapodi. Palermo, Italy: S. F. Flaccovio. 65–79. ——— (2009) ‘A Presentist Analysis of Joan, la Pucelle: “What’s past and what’s to come she can descry.”’ Presentism, Gender, and Sexuality in Shakespeare. Ed. Evelyn Gajowski. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. ——— (forthcoming 2014) ‘Shakespeare’s Quantum Physics: Merry Wives as a Feminist “Parallel Universe” of 2 Henry IV.’ The Merry Wives of Windsor: New Critical Essays. Ed. Phyllis Rackin and Evelyn Gajowski. London: Routledge. Stone, Lee Alexander (1925) The Power of a Symbol. Chicago: Pascal Covici. Stone, Merlin (1976) When God Was a Woman. San Diego: Harcourt. Storm, William (1998) After Dionysus: A Theory of the Tragic. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press. Thompson, Ann (2001) ‘Shakespeare and Sexuality.’ Alexander and Wells 1–13. Traci, Philip J. (1970) The Love Play of Antony and Cleopatra: A Critical Study of Shakespeare’s Play. The Hague and Paris: Mouton. ——— (1981) ‘As You Like It: Homosexuality in Shakespeare’s Play.’ College Language Association Journal 25: 91–105. Traub, Valerie (1992) Desire and Anxiety: Circulations of Sexuality in Shakespearean Drama. London: Routledge. Wells, Robin Headlam (1994) Elizabethan Mythologies: Studies in Poetry, Drama and Music. Cambridge University Press, 1994. Wells, Stanley (2010) Shakespeare, Sex, and Love. Oxford University Press. Whelehan, Imelda (1995) Modern Feminist Thought: From the Second Wave to ‘Post-Feminism’. Edinburgh University Press. Willbern, David (1980) ‘Shakespeare’s Nothing.’ Representing Shakespeare: New Psychoanalytic Essays. Ed. Murray M. Schwartz and Coppélia Kahn. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. 244–63. Williams, Gordon (1994) A Dictionary of Sexual Language and Imagery in Shakespearean and Stuart Literature. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Athlone. ——— (1996) Shakespeare, Sex and the Print Revolution. London and Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Athlone. Winnett, Susan (1990) ‘Coming Unstrung: Women, Men, Narrative, and Principles of Pleasure.’ PMLA 105: 505–18. Wood, Nigel, ed. (1996) Antony and Cleopatra. Theory in Practice Series. Buckingham: Open University Press. Woodbridge, Linda, and Edward Berry (1992) True Rites and Maimed Rites: Ritual and Anti-Ritual in Shakespeare and His Age. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Woolger, Jennifer Barker, and Roger J. Woolger (1989) The Goddess Within. New York: Fawcett Columbine. Ziegler, Georgianna (1997) ‘Picturing Venus and Adonis: Shakespeare and the Artists.’ Kolin 389–403. Index

Abrams, Richard, 119 Charnes, Linda, 163 n1, 164 n4 Adelman, Janet, 163 n2, 164 n4, Charney, Maurice, 10, 159 n7 167 n16 chastity, 2, 35, 86, 116, 118, 123, Alderman, Tim, 168 n22 124, 125, 126, 133, 134, 136, Anderson, Bonnie S., and Judith 157, 161 n9, 172 n1 P. Zinsser, 29, 69 Craik, Katharine A., 115–16 androgyny, 15, 41, 70, 74, 81, 82, cross-dressing, 110, 115, 127–31, 103, 106, 109, 112, 115, 131, 146, 151, 152–3, 173 n3, 133, 134, 165 n7 177 n3 Aristotle, 9, 69, 70–1, 72, 79, 80, 81, Crowley, Karlyn, 13, 159 n2 and n4, 82, 91, 110, 111, 112, 140, 160 n8 165 n9 Cutner, H., 167 n21, 168 n21, Arscott, Caroline, and Katie Scott, 169 n28 136 Ashcroft-Nowicki, Dolores, 100, Davis, Philip G., 159 n2 169 n30 and n31 Dening, Sarah, 44–5, 67, 72, 74, 76, 78, 99, 101, 103, 165 n6 Baring, Anne, and Jules Lashford, disease, 26, 32, 34, 39, 49, 50, 51, 14, 88–9, 89–90 52, 53, 54, 55, 57, 59, 60, 65, Baron, Dennis, 20 67, 68, 124, 162 n6 Bartlett, Sarah, 157 Drakakis, John, 163 n2, 164 n4 Barton, Anne, 95, 113 Drouin, Jennifer, 119 Bell, Ilona, 123 Dubrow, Heather, 175 n3 Bell, Shannon, 66 Duncan-Jones, Katherine, 122, 123, Benét, William Rose, 168 n24, 174 n2 174 n2 Bevington, David, 161 n9, 174 n2 Dupouy, Edmund, 168 n21, 170 n31 Bolen, Jean Shinoda, 3 Dusinberre, Juliet, 18, 172 n2 Bonheim, Jalaja, 3 Bono, Barbara J., 167 n16 Eisler, Riane, 91, 94, 168 n25 Brown, John Russell, 116 Empson, William, 35 Budra, Paul, 173 n7 Euripides, 91, 92, 176 n10 Burchfield, R. W., 20 Burford, E. J., 45–6, 52, 53, 60, 160 feminism, 4, 8, 9, 13–14, 18, 20–1, n5 and n6 40, 41–2, 65, 72, 85, 113, 116, Burt, Richard, 149 117, 132, 136–7, 144, 148, Bynum, Edward Bruce, 103–5, 150–1, 159 n4, 160 n9, 161 n8, 106–8, 170 n33 163 n2, 163–4 n4, 172 n2, 175 n3, 176 n10 Callaghan, Dympna, 164 n4 Fienberg, Nona, 175 n3 Chaney, Earlyne, 105–6, 108, 170 n34 Fineman, Joel, 274 n8

187 188 Index

Fitz (Woodbridge), Linda T., 69, 112, Persephone/Proserpina, 85, 90, 91, 163–4 n2 and n4 94, 145, 168 n25 see also Woodbridge, Linda, and Venus/Aphrodite, 2, 4, 7–8, 13, Edward Berry 14, 15, 34, 43–5, 46, 56, 62, Frey, Charles, 131 66, 67, 73, 75, 76, 79, 82, 90, Friedrich, Paul, 7, 45, 75, 140, 145, 100, 101, 124, 135–48, 150, 147, 175 n6 and n88, 177 n10 151, 152–3, 155–7, 166 n11 Furness, Horace Howard, 161 n9 and n14, 166–7 n15, 170 n30 Fuss, Diana, 159 n1 and n35, 171 n36, 174–6, 177 n10 and n11 Gajowski, Evelyn, 4, 76, 164 n4, gods 166 n12 Apollo, 74–5, 166 n13 Goddard, Harold C., 165 n10 Attis, 88 goddesses Baal, 147 Ashtoreth, 99 Cupid/Eros, 3, 79, 84, 126, 127, Astarte, 142, 145, 147, 171 n36 155, 156–7 Athena, 7, 96, 171 Dionysus/Bacchus, 72–5, 78, 82, Ceres/Demeter, 85, 90, 91, 94, 87, 90–3, 97, 103, 105, 106, 171 n36 110–12, 114, 166 n13 and n15, Cybele, 62 168 n24 and n25, 170–1 n35 Diana/Artemis, 2, 3, 4, 13, 35, Dumuzi, 94, 141, 142, 145 61–7, 119, 121, 126, 145, 157, Enlil, 147 159 n4, 161 n9, 162 n11 Geb/Cronus, 76–8, 79, 83, 102 Fortuna, 23–4, 25, 30, 37, 38, 114, Horus, 78, 88, 90, 100, 106, 109 138, 171 n36 Mars/Ares, 34, 73, 76, 79, 90, 101, Freya/Frig, 46 137, 139, 166 n11, 170 n30, Gaia, 96 175 n4 Gestinanna, 94 Mercury, 83 Hathor, 97–8, 99, 100, 106, Odin, 46 168 n22 Osiris, 76, 78, 82, 87, 88–91, 93–4, Hestia/Vesta, 171 97, 100, 102, 103, 106, 107, Inanna, 45, 94, 96, 141–2, 145, 109, 111, 112, 145, 166 n13, 147, 158 167 n16, 168 n25, 169–70 n28 Inara, 88, 94 and n30, 170 n31 Ishtar, 45, 59, 67, 96, 99, 142, 147 Pluto/Dis, 85, 94 Isis, 29, 45–6, 75, 76, 78, 82, 87, Set/Typhon, 78, 88 88–91, 93–4, 96, 97–8, 99, Tammuz, 142, 145, 147 100–1, 102–3, 106, 107, Uranus, 79, 166, 177 n10 108–9, 110, 111, 112, 113, Zeus, 7, 90, 145, 166 n14, 114, 145, 155, 166 n13, 167 n16 170–1 n35 and n21, 168 n22 and n23, Grady, Hugh, 8 169 n28, 169–70 n30, 170 n31, Green, Lyn, 87, 90, 91 171–2 n36, 175 n8 Greene, Gayle, and Coppélia Kahn, Juno/Hera, 63, 83, 90, 170–1 n35 41 Lucina, 62 see also Kahn, Coppélia Nut/Rhea, 76–8, 83, 102, 168 n22 Griffiths, J. Gwyn, 167 n16 Index 189

Grigson, Geoffrey, 75, 76, 141, 145, Laroque, François, 110–11 147, 177 n10 Lefkowitz, Mary R., 70, 176 n10 Grindon, Mrs Leo [Rosa L.], 163 n2 Liebler, Naomi Conn, 71–2, 110 Gubar, Susan, 4–5 Gurr, Andrew, 45 Manniche, Lise, 88, 89 marriage, 1, 4, 6, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, Halpern, Richard, 135–6, 174 n2 16, 17, 18, 20, 24, 27, 28, 29, Hamer, Mary, 113 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 43, Hannah, Judith Lynne, 157 44–5, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, Harbage, Alfred, 131 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 60, 61, Haselkorn, Anne M., 162 n4 63, 64, 65, 71, 76, 78, 86, 91, healing, 5, 26, 60–1, 62, 65, 67, 94, 97, 101, 102, 105–6, 108, 115, 120, 126, 127, 133, 148, 112, 117–18, 119–20, 122, 171 n36 123, 124, 127, 128, 129, 130, heterosexuality, 8, 18, 40, 41–2, 99, 133–4, 135, 141, 147, 149, 119, 122, 127, 132, 133–4, 151, 152, 153, 162 n10, 148, 152, 157, 159 n5, 174 n2, 163–4 n4, 165 n6, 173–4 n7 175 n8, 176 n11 McLuskie, Kathleen, 21 hieros gamos (sacred marriage), 44–5, McNeill, Fiona, 46, 47 87, 110, 148 Murray, James A. H., Henry Bradley, Hirsh, James, 164 n4 W. A. Craigie, and homosexuality, 18, 33, 99, 119, C. T. Onions. 19 131, 133, 134, 152, 159 n5, 175 n8 Neely, Carol Thomas, 161 n10 Hornstein, Lillian Herlands, 72 Neill, Michael, 79–80 Hughes-Hallett, Lucy, 106 Nuttall, A. D., 164 n5, 166 n13 Hyland, Peter, 173 n6 O’Dair, Sharon, 67 Ingram, Angela J. C., 162 n4 Ovid, 13, 57, 70, 71, 111, 140, 141, Ions, Veronica, 168 n22 145, 156, 159 n6

Jankowski, Theodora A., 118–19, Paglia, Camille, 152, 175 n8 173 n4 Pernoud, Regine, 31 Jones, Ann Rosalind, 162 n9 Plutarch, 78, 90, 167 n16, 170–1 n35 Kahn, Coppélia, 41, 164 n4 Pomeroy, Sarah B., 114, 166–7 n14 see also Greene, Gayle, and and n15, 171–2 n35 and n36 Coppélia Kahn pregnancy, 20, 22, 50, 53, 54, 61, Keach, William, 141 122, 123, 124 Kimbrough, Robert, 131, 165 n7 prostitution, 1, 8, 17, 18, 19, 20, Kolin, Philip C., 172 n2, 174 n2 25–7, 29, 39–40, 43–68, 69, Korda, Natasha, 46–7 70, 75, 100–2, 104, 110, 112, Kramarae, Cheris, and Paula A. 114, 136–7, 142, 147, 159, Treichler, 18, 20–1, 28 161–2, 167–8 n21, 169 n27 Kundalini, 104–8, 110, 112, 170 n32 and n34 Qualls-Corbett, Nancy, 45, 55, 148 190 Index

Rabkin, Norman, 139 2 Henry IV, 1, 19, 20, 21, 23, Rackin, Phyllis, 41, 51, 111, 131, 24, 27–8, 29, 34, 43, 47–52, 172 n1 161 n8 and n1, 162 n12 Rawson, Philip, 101–3, 170 n32 Henry V, 21, 28, 29, 48, 49, 50, 51, Reeder, Greg, 89 84, 159 n3, 161 n1 Ringdal, Nils Johan, 59, 67 1 Henry VI, 21, 22, 26, 46, 47, rites, 44–5, 72, 73, 74, 75, 78, 82, 160 n4 87, 90, 91, 92, 100, 137, 141, Henry VIII, 20 169–70 n30, 171 n35, 176 n11 Julius Caesar, 21, 112 rituals, 44–5, 70, 72, 74, 75, 86–7, King Lear, 19, 21, 29, 30–1, 174 n2 88, 93, 100, 101–2, 107, Love’s Labour’s Lost, 5–6, 9, 10, 110–11, 112, 141, 147, 148, 13, 122 150, 152, 161 n3, 165 n8, Measure for Measure, 19, 21, 26, 34, 169 n30, 170 n31, 171 n36, 36, 43, 52–5, 61, 66, 75, 118, 175 n5, 177 n10 122, 131, 150, 161 n2, 162 n7, Roberts, Nickie, 101 173 n4 Rubinstein, Frankie, 160 n1, 163 n3 Merchant of Venice, The, 127, 128, Ruether, Rosemary Radford, 14, 129, 149–51 159 n4, 160 n9 Merry Wives of Windsor, The, 21, Ryan, Kiernan, 8–9, 10, 66, 113, 28, 130, 161 n8 131 Midsummer Night’s Dream, A, 4, 9, 120, 173 n5 Saslow, James, 131 Much Ado About Nothing, 1, 4, 116, Schiffer, James, 174 n2 130 Schoenbaum, Samuel, 174 n1 Othello, 1, 4, 11, 18, 20, 21, 23, 25, Scholes, Robert, 164 n5 34–40, 42, 43, 161 n9–n10, Schulz, Muriel, 18 169 n27 self-actualization, 2, 8, 9, 14, 66, Pericles, 43, 58, 61–8, 160 n3 127, 130, 131, 134 Romeo and Juliet, 2, 20, 21, 23, 70, Shakespeare, William: plays 81, 82–5, 87, 89, 94, 95, 100, All’s Well That Ends Well, 2, 3, 101, 102, 103, 106, 113, 114, 117, 120 122, 149 Antony and Cleopatra, 21, 29–30, Taming of the Shrew, The, 10–11, 54–5, 69–114, 115, 154–5, 129 163–72 Tempest, The, 21, 24, 37 As You Like It, 15, 115, 129, 130, Timon of Athens, 21, 31–2, 39, 131–4 57–8, 67 Comedy of Errors, The, 43, 58, 61, Titus Andronicus, 4, 5, 6, 21, 22–3, 62, 117, 127, 156, 160 92, 93, 159 n6 Coriolanus, 21 Troilus and Cressida, 9, 10, 11, 19, Cymbeline, 21, 24, 33, 36, 127, 20, 21, 22, 32–5, 67–8, 70–1, 128, 160 121–2 Hamlet, 19, 21, 25–6, 30, 37, 38, Twelfth Night, 122–3, 127, 128, 61, 123, 131, 160 n7 130 1 Henry IV, 19, 24, 27, 28, 48, 51, Two Gentlemen of Verona, The, 128, 161 n1 173 n3 Index 191

Two Noble Kinsmen, The, 119, Stanton, Kay, 61, 121, 160 n4 and 160 n3, 173 n5 n6–7, 161 n8 Winter’s Tale, The, 1, 11–14, 61, Steinem, Gloria, 3 66 Steppat, Michael, 78, 166 n13 Shakespeare, William: poems Stone, Lee Alexander, 168 n23 and Lover’s Complaint, A, 116, 122–7, n25, 169 n27 and n29 173 n6 Stone, Merlin, 44, 71, 86, 87–8, Rape of Lucrece, The, 81, 122 96–8, 99, 100, 165 n8, 169 Sonnets, 22, 116, 122, 123, 124, n28 and n29, 172 n36 125, 126, 127, 153, 154, Storm, William, 92–3, 111, 166 n13 173 n6, 174 n8 Sonnet 121: 153; Sonnet 127: Thompson, Ann, 172 n2 154; Sonnet 130: 154; Sonnet Traci, Philip J., 71, 165 n9 133: 153; Sonnet 134: 153; Traub, Valerie, 119 Sonnet 135: 114, 124, 156; Sonnet 136: 114, 124, 156; virginity, 1, 2, 9, 17, 31, 39, 43, 45, Sonnet 138: 154; Sonnet 54, 62, 63, 64, 65, 67, 76, 84, 142: 153; Sonnet 144: 153–4; 86, 101, 117–21, 123, 126, Sonnet 150: 154; Sonnet 151: 138, 139, 169 n29, 175 n5 114, 124, 156; Sonnet 152: 126, 153; Sonnet 153; 126–7, Wells, Robin Headlam, 75, 76, 138, 157, 174 n8; Sonnet 154: 166 n11, 175 n4 126–7, 149, 157, 174 n8 Wells, Stanley, 10, 159 n7 Venus and Adonis, 7, 34, 43, 67, Whelehan, Imelda, 41 116, 122, 135–48, 175 n2 Willbern, David, 167 n17 Sheidley, William E., 174 n2 and n19–21, 172 n38 Simpson, Lucie, 163 n2 Williams, Gordon, 135, 137, 160 n1, Singh, Jyotsna, 47, 54, 162 n7 174 n2 Smith, Bruce R., 165 n5 Winnett, Susan, 164–5 n5 Spevack, Marvin, 62, 78, 160 n3 Woodbridge, Linda, and Edward spirituality, 13–14, 44–5, 64, 70, 81, Berry, 72 82, 102, 104–7, 111, 139, 146, see also Fitz (Woodbridge), Linda T. 157, 159 n7, 160 n8 and n9, Woolger, Jennifer Barker, and Roger 176 n11 J. Woolger, 8 Stallybrass, Peter, 138 Stanley, Julia P., 40 Ziegler, Georgianna, 175 n7